


Black Boy Blue

by Ezellia



Category: Moonlight (2016)
Genre: Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 01:09:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11325531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ezellia/pseuds/Ezellia
Summary: “You ain’t Chiron.” It’s not an accusation either, just an observation. “Nah, not my Chiron.”Takes up immediately after the movie.





	Black Boy Blue

For a while, all Black blissfully thinks and feels is of the way Kevin’s fingers brush his hair. _You’re the only man that’s ever touched me_. He hadn’t meant it like an accusation, and he’d held his breath until Kevin showed him the smallest of smiles. Black’s never been so good with words, it’s why he chooses usually not to use them. He’s still not sure how he meant it- but if it means this- something warm and safe like this, it’s all right so far.

“Who is you Chiron?” Kevin whispers again, and it’s been about four times now. Black thought it was one of things that you just hear and you're not supposed to answer, but this time he hazards a guess.

“I’m me.” He says, and it’s awkward around his grill, so he pulls them out, top and bottom, without moving from Kevin’s shoulders and feels around blindly for a bedside table he knows is there somewhere. “Just me.” He says again when he finds it, and resettles himself onto Kevin’s shoulder. Black has always been taller, but he’s never been the bigger one before. He can’t fold in on himself like he used to, back when he was all knobby knees and jabbing elbows on the beach. He must be heavy, leaning on Kevin like this, but he can't bring himself to move away.

“You ain’t Chiron.” It’s not an accusation either, just an observation. “Nah, not my Chiron.”

Black can’t remember the last time someone called him theirs. That takes familiarity, intimacy. Takes family. Maybe it’s an instinctive response, but something about that makes his muscles tense and he lifts his head away from the gentle touch of Kevin’s fingers. “Never was your Chiron. You always called me Black.”

“Yeah.” Kevin smiles, ignoring the way Black pulled away from him, and put his hand on his shoulder instead. There’s space between them now, enough to breath and laugh as he says with fondness, “You always hated me callin’ you that. Black.”

“Yeah…” Black shrugs and sits up a little straighter at that. If Kevin notices his discomfort, he doesn’t say anything, and leans against Black’s greater bulk. “S’Funny. I go by Black now.”

“Really?” Kevin snorts a little at that. “Big scary Black?”

“Ain’t gonna go round trappin’ with a name like Chiron.” Black says, not trying to hide the dislike when he says it. “Or _Little_.”

“Yeah, makes sense…” Kevin says to the ceiling. “Maybe some things don’t change, nah mean?”

“I feel.”

“Yeah…” Kevin says it so quiet and gentle, it’s like he’s falling asleep. A few heartbeats later, he rolls onto his back, sinking into the bed. “C’mere, Black.”

Black thinks about it, wonders where his body is going to fit against Kevin. Big and little spoon, or some shit like that, guesses he'll be big spoon.

“In state prison.” Black shrugs, and finally falls slowly backwards as Kevin tugs at the back of his shirt. Tight against his muscles, that’s why he wears it. “Ain’t no soft shit in state.” He adds as an afterthought. Kevin was county.

Kevin hums something like understanding, but keeps his eyes on the ceiling as Kevin fumbles about, propping himself up on one arm, looking down at Black. _He’s not bigger than you no more_ , Black thinks, and busies himself with staring at the stained, yellow-white ceiling. Pretends real hard that there are stars there instead of cracked, peeling stains. He can almost convince himself that he can hear the crashing of ocean waves. There’s no beach near Atlanta, not like in Miami. Black keeps thinking, trying to dig up memories of the way the air felt coming from over the water.

“Feels good,” Kevin whispers into the dark, reaches a hand out and rests it on Black’s chest. This hand is tentative, not like when they were teens on the beach.

_This hand doesn’t recognize me no more_ , Black thinks. Doesn’t take it personally.

Black closes his eyes and feels the heat from Kevin’s hand. What starts as gentle tapping turns into slow moving circles, and eventually up and down strokes across the expanse of skin. He could sleep like this, a real sleep, the kind that lasts the whole night. No nightmares, no scares.

Something safe, he figures.

“So,” Kevin says after a few minutes. “Never,” The hand that was warm and soft on his chest moves to his stomach, gentle but unmistakable. “With nobody?”

Black sits halfway up reflexively, struck suddenly by how close Kevin was, how his hand was trailing gently towards his lap. “Kevin, I.” He grabs his wrist, thinks about how easily he could snap the gentle bones in this cook’s wrist.

Thinks about how wouldn't be the first wrist he’s snapped.

Black hears all these stories about people finding their right self in the slam. Hell, he heard another one tonight, from Kevin. And yeah, he may not have found his real self in state, but he found _something_. He found respect, and he found power, and he found weight lifting. He didn’t wake up one day and make some promise to himself to never get pushed around again. It just sort of happened- he ate more regularly behind bars than he ever did with his momma, and he exhausted himself working out enough that he slept through nights. Being himself, being quiet and easy to overlook, got him through the beginning of his sentence. But it was bulking up that carried him out and into trappin’. People don’t fuck with you when you’re big. People respect you. Black liked being big and he liked being respected.

He liked not being Little.

Kevin is still looking at him, with those big, all seeing eyes that fuck with Black’s head. His hand is still and waiting, and he isn’t smiling or frowning. Just waiting.

“I meant it,” Black mumbled, slowly uncurling his fingers from around Kevin’s wrest. “The only one.”

It goes unspoken that he means more than the kind of touch they shared on the beach.

Kevin’s hand starts moving again and Black doesn’t stop him. He squeezes his eyes shut and lays his head back down instead, pushing out the encroaching feeling of guilty and _bad idea_. What was the worst that could happen? Prison, and damn if Black wasn't doomed to end up there again for trappin’.

“Lay back.” Kevin whispers, even though he already is. His hand is at his belt, tugging at the leather like he’s done this before, and Black can’t imagine how he manages to slip it loose with one hand like that. Magic cook fingers, or some shit. When Black hears the buckle clinking, and Kevin’s fingers are at his zipper, his whole body tenses.

“I’m not gon’ let you go.” Kevin whispers again, and Black can’t bear to be looking him in the face. He’s glad his eyes were already closed, glad for the darkness of the room as Kevin opens his zipper, slips his fingers beneath the cotton of his boxers.

His body is still tense when Kevin takes him in his hand. Jerks him once, twice, and then stops. Maybe he’s waiting for Black to change his mind, to push him off and break his wrist for good measure. “S’okay.” He finally chokes out. And they both know it’s not. So much of what’s still between them is still unspoken and still not okay. But, he says it again anyway, “S’okay.”

Kevin’s hand moves again, and if anything it’s better than Black remembers. Better than the memories he coveted in the darkest parts of himself back when he was Chiron and new and scared in juvie. “I’m not gon’ let you go. I got you.” Kevin whispers again to the darkness, and Black, no, Little, turns his face and buries his eyes in Kevin’s shoulder. Hiding, like he still does sometimes.

It’s easy to stop thinking of the consequences once Kevin sets a pace. Its sloppy and dry, but Black sinks into the feeling anyway, grips the bed sheets beneath him like sand for grounding. He doesn’t make a sound, muffling his breath with Kevin’s shirt. The only sound in the room is the sound of clothing and Kevin’s breathing, quick and short like he’s the one on display.

It doesn’t take long. Black hasn’t touched or been touched, and he has no allusions about what that means for his stamina. He feels Kevin’s eyes on him, feels the pace slow when his muscles start to tense under his skin and he flexes under the hand that cooked his dinner. “Hey,” Kevin’s voice shakes, and Black doesn't even want to think about what he’d sound like if he tried to talk. “Hey, look, look at me.”

Black looks up, opens his eyes, and Kevin is there suddenly, their lips together firmly. The kiss lasts less than a few seconds, and Black doesn't have the chance to respond before Kevin pulls away, speeds up his hand, and it hits him like a punch.

Kevin doesn’t expect him to reciprocate. Honestly, Black doesn’t think he even could if he asked him too. He feels boneless and dead tired. After a while, he feels Kevin shifting off the bed, walking to the kitchen or maybe a bathroom and then the sound of running water. Black listens to his footsteps nearing the bed again, until they stop somewhere nearby. He keeps his eyes closed.

“Gon’ have to wash that shirt.” Kevin offers.

Black opens his eyes to the cracked ceiling and yellow wallpaper.

“I wanna go to the beach.”

* * *

 

Black makes do with one of Kevin’s stretched out shirts, and drives them to the beach. It's the dead of night, and it’s as empty as they would have expected. They spend the drive in silence; Black rolled down the windows and turned the music up. He knows Kevin is sneaking glances at him, maybe trying to figure out if he’s mad, or regretting what they did. But he doesn’t know what to say or how to even try, so he opts for silence.

It’ll do, Black thinks as he parks the car and steps out. The sea is right there, black and big and unending, with the moon hanging above it. He hears Kevin getting out of the car, but doesn’t wait for him before he’s headed to the shore. Water’s too cold this time of year without the sun, so Black kicks off his shoes and makes do with letting the water lick at his toes. He wants to breath the ocean, smell it and hear it until the rest of the world fades.

“Teresa worries about you.” Kevin’s voice is almost lost to the ocean, and Black sort of wishes it had been. “Said she hadn’t heard from you in a while.”

Black hums quietly, tilts his head to let him know he heard him when Kevin walks up to him. His hands are stuffed in his pockets, his shoes still on. The wind’s a little strong, he supposes. Black will probably be freezing soon too, but not yet.

Kevin seems less inclined towards silent contemplation. A few minutes pass as Black crosses his arms and stares at the water while he kicks at the sand and rubs the goose bumps on his arms. “So, what,” Kevin finally says, “We gon’ fight or somethin’? Get it all out once for all?” When Black doesn’t respond, he keeps going. “You can punch me if you want. I know I have it comin’.”

Black smiles at that. Honestly smiles, because it’s funny. He’s felt a lot of different things towards a lot of different people, Kevin in particular. But in between juvie and state and trappin, he’s never been angry at him. “I ain’t gonna fight you, nigga.” He says with a bit of a laugh in his voice. We’ve got a lot of talkin’ to do, or some soft shit like that, Black thinks to himself. But, “I ain’t gonna fight you. Just.” He motions to the water. “S’the middle of the world, is all. Here.”

“I dunno what the fuck you mean,” Kevin mumbles, but he seems relieved that Black isn’t mad. “Well if we ain’t gonna fight, now what?”

We talk. Bout you, and me, and Kevin Junior. Bout me going home to Atlanta, trappin’, pretending this never happened. “Dunno.”

Kevin just shrugs like he doesn’t know what he expected. “Aight. Well lemme ask you something then. Did you really hate me calling you Black when was kids?”

“Why?”

“Cause,” Kevin sounds embarrassed, runs a hand through his hair. “Still just tryin’ to figure out who is you, that’s all.”

“Nah,” Black tucks his hands in his pockets and pulls his toes out of the edge of the water. Alternates wiping his feet dry on his jeans leg. Thinks about where the name came from and what it meant now. “Nah, I didn’t mind.”

“A’ight.” Kevin shrugs, apparently satisfied. “Black.”

“Maybe, though.” Black shrugs, plays it casual like he does when cops drive past him on the street. “Maybe you give me a new one, though.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

Silence again. Black thinks about how his throat is starting to hurt from all the talking he’s doing. Or maybe it’s the sea air. He has no goddamn clue what kind of name. Doesn’t know why he said it.

“Full moon tonight.” Kevin observes to fill the silence.

“How ‘bout Blue?”

“Blue?” Kevin looks at him, trying to gauge how serious he is. “What, you gonna go through the whole rainbow till somethin’ fits?”

“Nah, nigga.” Black looks over at Kevin, who’s smiling at him all dumb like, then looks down at himself. His arms, the backs of his hands.

“I look like a Blue.”


End file.
